12 Days of Injured Isaac
by Allureofproductivity
Summary: Isaac has a tendency to get into trouble. A series of 12 one shots based on Merriam Webster's word of the day
1. Chapter 1

Noel:n. A Christmas carol  
His head was killing him. He felt like it was spinning and twirling in circles as he staggered down the street, clutching one hand to his chest and the other to his thigh, blood seeping through his pale fingers and trailing down the sidewalk, making a macabre path behind him. He felt sick, black blood welling up along with red and staining his white tshirt. He could see Allison's building glowing faintly in the dark, soft carols floating out the open window of her living room.  
"Noel, Noel, noel, noel.."  
By, "born is the king of Israel," he had dragged himself up her stairs and slumped against her doorframe, one finger dragging at the bell weakly. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, cheek pressed against the tile, vision going fuzzy.  
"Isaac? ISAAC?"  
Allison was standing over him, and he waved weakly and then vomited black goo on her welcome mat.  
"DAD!"  
Chris was holding him up now, and he let his head fall onto the grey sleeve of his shirt, whining low in his throat. Allison rubbed his cheek as he fell boneless on the couch and then cried out as more blood spurted from the gashes in his chest.  
"Shhhh, shhhhhh, Ise, you're ok, you're ok."  
He wasn't ok, and he proved it by puking all over the white carpet.  
"Call Scott."  
Scott. Yeah, they should call Scott. He couldn't breathe. Holy shit he couldn't breathe.  
Choking, he jackknifed upright and swayed weakly, grasping at Allison's hand. She took it.  
"Hospital."  
He was in a car, tears streaming down his cheeks as they hit bump after bump. Scott was there, gripping his forearm, but the pain wasn't lessening. Allison was stroking through his hair.  
He passed out shortly after Scott carried him into the waiting room yelling for Melissa. He knew it was coming and thrashed in his alpha's grip, moaning, tasting blood and acid.  
"Isaac, baby, shhhh."  
Melissa was stroking his cheek, kissing his forehead, yelling for a doctor, oxygen mask, and gurney. His vision was tunneling.  
"Stay with me. Isaac, hold on. You have to stay awake, ok?"  
He couldn't. With a final gasping cry for Scott, Allison, anybody, he conked out.

He came to in full panic mode, eyes glowing golden. Something was down his throat, another something pricking his hand, and everything ached dully, trying to steal attention away from the fact that something was slowly strangling him.  
And then it was gone, and Scott was next to him. He turned his head, jaw slack and eyes glazed.  
"'Ow bad..."  
"Aconite poisoning, punctured lung, nicked femoral artery from a bullet wound, concussion. What the fucking hell did you run into?"  
"Hunter in a Starbucks..."  
"The one near Allison's?"  
He nodded, head heavy on the pillow. Scott stood up, cracking his back, and fixed his injured, baked as a cake beta with a look.  
"Get some rest, yeah? I'll be back soon."  
He could do that.  
"Oh, and Isaac? Allison said to tell you merry Christmas."  
He fell asleep with a smile on his bruised face.


	2. Chapter 2

Paraphernalia: n: articles of equipment , furnishings

"Isaaaaaaaaac!"  
She had been screaming for him when the flaming ceiling came down, beam across his back and then a blizzard of tile shingles, and she still was, coughing and choking on thick black smoke. She pawed through more rubble, trying desperately to ignore the burns on her hands.  
"ISAAAC!"  
Scott was next to her, fangs elongated, ears tilted, and then they heard it. Isaac was howling, a sure sign that he was still alive. She sighed with relief and sprinted toward the sound, stopping only when Scott dropped to his knees next to her suddenly. Her questioning glance yielded only one word from him.  
"Mistletoe."  
Well shit. She kept going, Scott slumped on the floor behind her. Isaac howled again, right beneath her feet, and she began digging through the paraphenalia of the witch's flaming shack, eyes stinging, throat burning, hands stinging even more as she touched hot tile and shattered glass.  
Isaac was pressed against the floor and covered in a thin layer of fine white dust. His back was a mess of blistered, red, oozing flesh and he growled when she brushed a hand over his shattered, bloody right wrist.  
"Isaac?"  
His eyes flickered gold and then went blue again, and he whined in his throat.  
"Hurts..."  
"I know, I know, Isaac. I'm gonna move the beam, ok, so be ready to move."  
Allison wasn't entirely sure that he could move under his own power, but she shifted the bema anyways, grunting as the weakened wood splintered over Isaac's already tortured back. He screamed out the high pitched noise ending in a low howl.  
"Isaac, you need to move. Isaac, now!"  
Another part of the ceiling collapsed to their right, and Isaac swayed weakly to his feet, face draining and eyes rolling.  
Allison slipped under one arm before he could completely collapse and started walking toward the door, Isaac's head falling onto her shoulder. They were almost to the door now, Scott already lying away from the entrance and regaining his breath.  
The minute they staggered from the building, Isaac went limp against her side, coughing desperately in an attempt to to clear his lungs of burning mistletoe. She felt his forehead, wincing at the temperature radiating off his skin. He rolled his head across the ground and moaned. There was blood running down his left temple. Allison looked at Scott worriedly.  
"Deaton?"  
"Yes. Fast."  
To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Lacuna (noun): A small cavity or pit.

"Well this is...problematic."  
Allison glared at him, taking in his bruised face, swollen nose, and useless left arm as he blinked owlishly up at her from the bottom of a deep pit, head lolling on his neck.  
"Yeah, no shit Isaac."  
He winced, trying to shift in the hole so that his bones could knit together correctly, and then whined low in pain, eyes losing focus. She looked to what he had gripped loosely in his hand, halfway through the process of moving away the wilted object away from himself when he had finally lost consciousness.  
Yeah, that was wolfsbane.  
"You totally owe me, Lahey."  
And Allison went to work dragging a limp werewolf out of a ten foot deep hole in the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Exhilarate: stimulate  
Continuation of "Paraphernalia"  
Guys, if you read this, please leave a review. The total radio silence is freaking me out a little. Also, I apologize for the lack of page breaks. I don't actually know how to embed them.  
Deaton didn't even flinch as he opened the door of his house to see two frazzled teenagers holding up a third. He merely stepped aside and let them in wordlessly.  
Isaac regained consciousness as they entered the emissary's home, confused and flighty. He managed to break out of Scott's grasp and bolted for the door, getting about two feet before his lungs seized and he collapsed on the hardwoods, wheezing. Allison beat Scott to Isaac's side and ran her fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his neck as black phlegm stained his lips and coated his shaking hands. He let his head drop to her collarbone and groaned loudly as pain shredded across the crispy flesh of his back. Deaton crouched by the pair after speaking quietly to Scott, when left the room quickly.  
"Isaac, I need you to look at me."  
Allison supported his head as he struggled to turn to Deaton, finally managing to focus on the veternarian's face, skin still too hot to the touch.  
"Just what I suspected. I can give him something for the pain, counteract the poison. The actual healing he will have to do on his own. It may take a while."  
She nodded, pressing her lips to Isaac's temple as he whimpered.  
Allison sat against the bathroom door, cold tiles exhilarating her skin, hands pressed to her ears. Scott was holding Isaac down as Deaton did his best to help him heal, and Isaac hadn't stopped screaming since they had set his arm. She was shaking now, tears streaming down her cheeks, when the screaming finally stopped outside the door.  
Melissa yelped as the door to her home creaked open, running to the foyer. Isaac was doped up on painkillers, legs like jello, arm bound to his bandaged torso. He whimpered quietly when he saw Melissa, lurching forward slowly.  
"Scott..."  
"He's gonna be ok, mom. He's gonna be ok."  
The second time, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.  
Isaac regained full consciousness that morning, at about 5 am. He groaned, whole body stiff and sore, head pounding, and looked around the room. Scott was out on the floor, Melissa in the chair and Allison...  
"How are you feeling?"  
She was propped up on the headboard, head in her hand, other hand carding through her hair slowly. She looked wiped.  
"I'm...alright. I hurt pretty bad."  
"Isaac... I'm so sorry."  
"Why?"  
She kissed his forehead gently, and he cupped her chin with his good hand.  
"I just... God Isaac. I watched you almost die, and then while Scott and Deaton helped you, I hid in the bathroom and cried like a baby."  
"It's ok. I cried like a baby too."  
And she laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

Saponaceous: having qualities of soap  
Please review?  
Black blood runs over her hands, sticky and saponaceous. He moans, dark lashes fluttering over pale cheeks.  
"Al...Allison..."  
"Don't talk."  
He shifts, more goop flowing over her hands. They're shaking now, vibrating almost uncontrollably against the gaping hole in Isaac's stomach.  
"I can't... Gonna pass..."  
"If you say out I will skin you."  
He laughs, blood bubbling across his lips and spilling down his chin. He coughs shakily.  
"Pretty...pretty sure it would hurt less...than this."  
It's her turn to laugh, shallow, dry, and humorless. It probably would, seeing as his guts are practically dragging the dirt as they sit here and wait for Scott.  
He holds up his hand slowly, and she takes it.  
They just have to hold on.


End file.
